


Shall We Meet Your Boyfriend, Brother?

by shewasabadgirl



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondlock verse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-06-19 07:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15505191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewasabadgirl/pseuds/shewasabadgirl
Summary: The only times Mycroft and Sherlock stop arguing is to annoy the shit out of Q. And they invite James Bond to join the fun...





	1. Chapter 1

 

"Quentin,"

This was the first word uttered on the other side of the phone when Q picked it up.   
He quickly looked around. The place was mostly empty being the middle of the night.

"Mycroft! I'm at work!" He said in a loud whisper.   
He's so not used to hearing his name called anymore. He's sure they'd have it wiped from his memory if they can.

"Yes, little brother. I know about all the security and stuff." came the reply.

Q rolled his eyes. Yeah Mycroft was probably responsible for most of the changes and additions to the regulations for the past tweny odd years.   
"So? Why are you calling?"   
He didn't have a good feeling about this.

One, Mycroft calling him at work.   
Two, Mycroft being extra sibling friendly.   
Three, Mycroft calling him, at work, acknowdging he's his little brother over the phone means Mycroft must had put his line under highest security protection.   
Conclusion: Mycroft was up to something.

"Quentin, you'll probably ask how I know about it so we can fastforward this part. But we need to borrow your boyfriend."

Q had a bunch of questions to fire at his eldest brother but he settled for,   
"I don't have the authority to let out him, Mycroft. You need to ask-"

"Why didn't you ask 'who's we?'" Mycroft had in it his undertone of _all the things you could have said you picked to point out the thing I obviously know_.

Q rubbed his aching forhead.   
Yes to them it's good to have a conversation with a normal intelligent people where you could utter one word instead of explaning for half an hour and still get a blank look. But that doesn't necessarily mean that speaking with your fluent with sarcasm brother is something you love to do after working for 20 hours.

"Fine. Who's we?" Q coudn't be bothered to think of a witty comeback.

"Me and your brother, of course." Mycroft said cheerfully. "Just a personal favour. And your boyfriend is currently enjoying his days off. We will return him in one piece, don't worry. If there would be any trouble with the authorities I'll deal with it."

"He's having days off because he's only returned from a mission, Mycroft. He needs to rest and recover." Q complained.   
He knew a losing battle when he saw one. Mycroft was merely phoning to INFORM him of his decision rather than ask for his permission.

"You can come with him if you like. So you can still ensure he's having his rest and recovery." Mycroft said the last three words with such a teasing tone it made Q blush feverishly.

"Mycroft!" He hissed into the mouthpiece.

His eldest brother just laughed.   
"See you at mine tomorrow night at seven, then." Mycroft said when he's had enough laughing and was sure if his little brother rolled his eyes once more it might not be healthy for his eyeballs.   
"Bring my future brother-in-law."

"I should warn you, though. If anything happens to him I don't think even you can tame those higher up."

"I know." Mycroft said. And he clicked the phone off with an air of _I made you too annoyed to comment on my brother-in-law line didn't I, haha gotta share with Sherlock._ "

Q was pretty sure the only thing his two elder brothers would talk about with out fighting and trying to out-sass each other was him. Teasing him was this one mutual habit they have in the world. Perhaps the only one.

***

James was actually quite happy to help out Q's brothers when Q told him about it when he finally got home that evening/morning.   
He lay there, head propped up by his arm on the pillow and listened with great interest as Q briefed him about Mycroft and Sherlock and warned him that his brothers were the two most arrogant and annoying people in the world.

"And look at me! They are the reason I'm the most good-tempered person in the world!"

"I do believe that." James said with his sweetest smile.

"You are holding back laughter aren't you." Q shot him a dirty look.

"Why would I do that?" He pressed a kiss on the younger man's lips. "I can't wait to meet them."

"Just...just go the fuck to sleep." Q flopped back onto his own pillow and rolled over to his side.

Bond chuckled. He lay down too and draped an arm around Q's waist, pulling him close.

Before Q fell asleep he had this horrible feeling that those three men were going to be BFFs and as for him, Quentin Holmes-

Life was going to go straight downhill from that moment on.


	2. Chapter 2

As Bond was still snoring on his bed when he left home, and Q finished most of the paperwork and weapon analysis report yesterday. Q had a rare relaxing workday today.

Normally he'd spend such a day hacking various system for fun - nope, to see if there were anything else that needed fixing - okay it's for fun. 

But today he was focusing all his attention onto the very core of the British government, determined to find out what case awaited his double-oh agent before tonight.

His tea was abandoned on the table, his brow furrowed.

Sherlock could hear his younger brother's brain buzzing from two storeys up

Q nearly jumped out of his skin when someone dumped something heavy onto his desk.

"Shouldn't you not be this jumpy anymore now you have a career in espionage?" said a voice in a tone mixed with amusement and _tut-tut I expected better of you Quentin_.

"Sherlock! What the hell are you doing here?" Q struggled to remain his composure.  
He could't let his the-youngest-child-in-the-family side show in this place. People look up to him for fuck sake.

"Special delivery for my favourite brother." Sherlock said casually, making himself comfortable on the edge of Q's desk.  
He patted the box he just dropped on Q's desk.

From the clattering sound that came from within Q knew at once it must be some newest prototypes from Mycroft. Straight out of the labs. Skipping all the official precedures of examination and certification.

"Isn't it usually not delivered this way?" Q said.

Sherlock flicked something in front of Q's eyes.

Q smiled.  
Mycroft's security card, of course. God knows how Sherlock smuggled the box of stuff.  
They got at most 2 minutes before their eldest brother ring either of their phones.

It's hard for outsiders to comprehend, but to Q, Sherlock was almost a normal elder brother. He was always closer to Sherlock, who was only a couple of years older than him.  
Mycroft to Q was always a busy busy man. For as far as he could remember he followed Sherlock around, listened to his ramblings, and asked the right questions.  
Sherlock and Quentin were pretty much on the same level of intelligence, albeit focusing them on different fields as it became aparent where their interest lay as they got older.  
With each other they could have whatever the closest thing to "discuss" was to them.

Q glanced at his watch and saw in the corner of his eye Sherlock's mouth quirked up a bit.  
He picked up his cup of tea and took a tiny sip of the cold liquid and was about to say something when Sherlock opened his mouth first.

"So, your boyfriend," he said.

Q nearly choked on his tea.  
"I thought you were here for something else, Sherly." He pouted.

"Mycroft told you about 'we', Q." Sherlock said, smiling almost indulgently.  
"Anyway, our eldest brother just texted me and complained he detected a hacker on his personal computer. It shouldn't do that, as you designed his defence system personally. He's concerned."

"Nonsense. I avoided the alarm system and overwrote detector!" Q blurted out.

"Are you sure you have a future in espionage, Quinney?" Sherlock said.

"I...Damn you Sherlock I hate you." Q couldn't believe he had been so stupid. Where had all his training gone?

Sherlock reached out and ruffled Q's messy hair.

Q glared at him and indicated around him with his chin.

Sherlock chuckled.  
"These might help your boyfriend." He patted the box again and stood up to leave, at the same time his phone rang with a shrill.  
"On my way out cake boy." Sherlock said to the speaker and clicked the phone dead.  
He winked at Q and left from the way he came.

 

Three seconds later Q found himself speaking to his own phone.  
"On his way out. No he's just here for...for some tea."

Q started doubting himself too if a career in espionage was really for him.

***

James Bond wandered into his office shortly after lunch time.

Actually Q still had a half eaten sandwich on his desk when he felt a towering figure from across the screen and demolished what's left of his lunch.

"You should get regular meals, double-oh seven. The doctor's orders." He said without glancing up.

"I will if you do." Bond said, draining his tea in one gulp. "What's that?"  
He poked at the box on Q's desk.  
He's probably breaking several laws ath the same time by doing that. But that never stopped him before. And he's not gonna start behaving now, not after he knew of Mycroft existence.

"New weapon. I've not opened it yet. You can try it out if you have nothing to do. Just be careful, it's not fully tested."

"Wow! Look at this!" Bond was already rummaging in the box. "You never made me anything this cool."

"Cool?" Q winced at Bond's choice of words.

"What? I'm too old to say cool now?"

"No. Of course not." Q would do anything to shut Bond up before his innuendos start flying out from his filthy mouth.  
He could be fluent in dirty talk, too. Not in the office. He's still trying to keep a reputation.  
That reputation involved not flirting with his double-oh agent openly in office.  
He'd still like to think no one knew about himself and James.  
Apart from his brothers, apparently.

"Look at this gun. It could aim three targets at the same time. I'm trying that out right now. I will be back in time to thank your brother in person. I owe him." James selected a few other things from the box of weaponary and rushed off.

 

Q deleted the questions about how on earth he knew these weapons were from Mycroft from his mind. It's the sort of day he wouldn't win at anything.


	3. Chapter 3

Q got a text from Mycroft (half an hour before the time they agreed) to inform him his limo was waiting outside.  
Q had been expecting this. That's why he stayed in his office though there's not really much to do. You don't need to get home early, shower and change when you're having dinner with your brothers.  
  
He told James that, if he want to, he can go back and prepare himself for the big 'meet the family' occasion. He told him his estimation time of his pick-up car's arrival and James would be following them in his own vehicle. Safety reasons.

"Oh your brothers know each other like you have a live feed on others' brain waves." James had said when he came back from the shooting ground, telling Q about the new weapon's test results with child-like excitement, which was rare and endearing.  
Q'd have kissed him if they were not in his office.

"I believe the word everyone else use is annoying." Q said, he looked from the gun and saw James look at him.  
"Oh don't give me that look. It's okay. We three are used to be called freaks and all that. Speaking of which,"  
Q put the gun back into the box Sherlock brought.  
"Try not to give Sherlock an easy job, and try not give him something to insult you with for the rest of your life."

Bond's eyes showed a glint of "challenge accepted."

"Off you go, then." Qu said, returning his attention to his computer, in a louder voice. Got to act cool.

007 did not really agree with Q's insisting on keeping their relationship a secret. Safety issues, blah blah blah, he understand.  
He didn't have a good track record for keeping people around him alive. But he never let that deny him the pleasure and freedom of living his own life.  
WIth what they are capable of (and what the people they are surrounded with are capable of, with the Holmes brothers added to the list). James Bond don't see why he can't kiss that cute pretending-to-be-serious face to his heart's content right here right now. Screw him on his desk. Photocopy his ass. God Q's hot when he's in work-mode. He would do all he could to get his two brothers help him.

***  
  
Q was wandering into Mycroft's kitchen to fetch his reserved favourite mug when the door bell rang announcing James' arrival.  
He hurried out of the kitchen again  
  
He had thought James would wait a longer time than this to come knock. This annoyed him a little.   
Deep down Q liked every thing to happen as he planned. He liked having everything under control. He guessed it's a family thing.  
But James Bond was, if anything, full of surprises and almost always have something rebellious planned. Q had a bad feeling he'd live to rue the day he sat in National Art Gallery and unprofessionally fell for the double-oh agent, hard.

"Mr Bond." he heard Mycroft's diplomatic voice before he saw them.  
  
"Mr Holmes. Pleasure to meet you." James' deep mumble always vibrates with the pit of Q's stomach.

"Just call me Mycroft. Although Quentin calls me Mikey when he wants something."

"Mycroft!" Q hurried to James' side. "James don't want to hear this!"

"Why don't you go make James tea." Mycroft said to Q with that obviously fake look I'm fake smiling face of his.  
"I'd prepare it for you of course but Quentin never told me how you like it." Mycroft added the last sentence to Bond.

Bond noted with amusement how Mycroft now addressed him by his firstname. He always felt a special flutter inside when people call him James.  
He smiled at Mycroft, a diplomatic one as he's not too sure what to say. This is quite new territory for the charmer.  
  
The three of them made their way into the living room. Q decided it's not safe to leave Bond's side just yet. Tea and coffee can wait a bit longer.  
  
Sherlock is sitting on the sofa. Apparently sulking. He raised his eyes as they walked in.  
He glanced at Q quickly with a dart of eyes in Mycroft's direction. Q suppressed a laughter. Sherlock didn't get away with the earlier incident of stealing a box of weapons and using Mycroft's ID card. Looks like he's denied cases for a week.

"No, Quentin." Mycroft said before anyone said anything.  
Sherlock pouted and glared at him. Q had to discard his just-forming plan of asking Mycroft for forgiveness.

Bond chuckled.   
"Q did tell me something about his brothers, Mr. Holmes. Looks like he's not exaggerating."

Mycroft returned another professional smile, and didn't comment on Bond's choice of words.  
  


But Sherlock's voice came out of nowhere like it always did-  
"Call him Quentin. My little brother doesn't like to be called Q in-"

"Sherlock!" Q cut him off just in time.

"You are just too lost in his glow to tell him, brother." Sherlock said cooly.

Q glared at him.

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something else but instead came forward and shook Bond's hand.  
"Sherlock, please. You can call that one Mr. Holmes if you like."

"You are lucky, James. Our Quentin is the only one that can make Sherlock Holmes shut up." Mycroft said to the window pane.

"Can we just sit down?" Q said. God talking about embarrassing family members.

"Fetch James his tea first, brother." said Mycroft before Q could even take one step closer.

"I'm coming with you." said Sherlock.   
He stepped behind Q and steered him forward towards the kitchen.

With one desperate final glance at Bond, Q had to go the direction he was pushed.

 

"Good taste, Quentin." Sherlock said once they were in the kitchen.  
He leaned on the door frame as Q busied himself with mug and kettle.  
"Did he tell you he's got a dead wife? And too many dad relationships. I'd say, the way he looks at you-"

"I'm aware of all that, Sherly." Q said.  
The kettle is boiling. He leaned on the counter facing Sherlock.  
"I've read all his files. I suspect he expects me to die on him on a daily basis."

"And so do you." Sherlock says.  
"Mycroft's losing hair recently."

"More than he already does?" Q made the obligatory joke.

Neither of the brothers spoke for a while.

“What does he want James for?" Q said. 

"And he's still not comfortable with his first name." Sherlock picked up what he was saying instead.  
"He's keen to keep away from all affections that truly affects him."

"Are you saying I'm just like one of the many things he's picked up along the way? Sherlock just because he dislikes being alone-"

"Oh dear brother where's your confidence? No. The fact he's here. That's a positive sign." 

Somewhere in Q's head a voice was telling him discussing relationship problems with Sherlock is the least sensible thing he could do.  
But Sherlock understands people. He does really. He analyzes them, every muscle-movement, every emotion.  
He just doesn't bother to apply them to himself.

"What does Mycroft want with him?" Q changed the subject back.   
"I checked everywhere, dug into Mycroft's deleted items on his phone. Didn't find any mission where he might need Bond."

"Stick with James. He will crack." Sherlock pointed to remind him the kettle's finished boiling. "  
"And the cake boy just wants to meet him. That's all."

"What? He could have just said!" Q rolled his eyes. Mycroft really loved his dramatic gestures. Running a whole country is messing with his head. Everything needs to be on a big scale.

"He considered it. But your James might not want to come. Meet with the family. It's something important, isn't it?"

"It is." Q admitted. Sherlock looked pleased with himself.

"You can have your first cup here. Let them talk."

 

Bond sat on the sofa, his arms spread. He tried to go for a casual look but he still felt a knot in his stomach.   
God help him his nervous.  
It's not like he had never been nervous before. Of course he had. But it was usually mingled with anticipation and adrenaline. He could do with that combination.  
Now he was just nervous.

Mycroft stirred his tea and smiled at him. A different one those smiles he had given him so far. It was one that was not polite or professional. One that James didn't have a reflex to depend on.

"I'll be honest with you." Mycroft put down his tea without sipping it and heaved a little sigh.  
"I told Quentin a lie. Sherlock and I just want to invite you over for dinner."

James Bond felt as if the floor and sofa supporting him had suddenly gave way. Now he's officially on foreign territory.  
He hated his mind for over-reacting. Not a behaviour Britain's top secret agent should have.

"Quentin likes to think he's kept you a secret. And he's doing good." Mycroft continues to say.  
He picked up his cup again and delivered most of his sentences to his tea.  
"But you know. It's not easy being the eldest. Especially when your brothers are a couple of magnets to danger."   
Mycroft looked at James and shrugged.  
"I like to go a bit further to make sure I know what my brothers are doing. Just for their own sake. And I don't get any thanks for that. Quentin's better. But generally they just enjoy using their incredible talents against me."  
Mycroft finally frank his tea and took his time to taste it.  
"And the times I've cleaned after their messes and gotten them out of trouble." Mycroft sighs again.  
"I'd gladly have the pair of them locked up in prison over Christmas since they were ten and eight, you know, if mummy wouldn't be very upset if I did."

"I'm sure Q is grateful deep down." James said. He felt this is the point in time he was obliged to contribute to the conversation.  
Though he really didn't know how to respond.  
"The way he talks about you." James speaks on without pause to avoid being told off for not calling Q by his real name.  
He clearly admires you. He makes you sound like God, you know. You can do anything by just sitting there. Albeit with a tone of obvious annoyance, I must add."   
James smiled, a gentle fond smile at the memory of Q talking 300 miles per hour, his face flushed with bursting sibling feeling.

Mycroft laughed.   
"Well that's good to know." He said. "And conning Quentin brought Sherlock over to my side for the day, too. What a great day to cherish."   
He smiled to himself, looking faraway.

"And I don't mind telling you." Mycroft recovered quickly. "I actually know you quite well, double-oh seven. Supervised several of your missions myself." He said cheerfully. Well as cheerful as Mycroft could be.  
"But don't tell Quentin that."

"Oh my god Mycroft! Do you really think you can keep a secret." Came a deep voice from behind him.

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"I gave you a job, Sherlock." he said, sounding extremely patient.

"Has it never occurred to you that Quentin and I are alliance?" Sherlock said. His eyes wide and innocent.  
"By the way, I'm just here to tell you Quentin wanted to say do you even read the safety reports he jives you on your phone and computer systems? He just spent today visiting your previous little databases and they do not have much improvement. He'd come and laugh at you himself but apparently he want to save some rface in front of his boyfriend."

"Sherlock!" Q could be heard somewhere in the house.

"Point delivered. You go on." Sherlock said and disappeared again.

Mycroft took a deep breath and had a long sip of tea.   
"Very sorry about that." He said to Bond. He stopped short when he looked up and saw Bond looking out the doorway, a fond smile on his face.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the formatting is a bit weird. I don't know why.

Q was typing away fast, his keyboard almost flying-

James is waiting for his next command. He’s currently crouching inside a tunnel in a mountainside. Their target is approaching fast on a train. It should be here in twenty minutes

 

His earpiece clicked –

“Q” a voice said. “I am your commander-in-chief. Don’t ask irrelevant questions.”

 

Q frowned. His finger almost hit a wrong key.

Mycroft revealing himself as the commander-in-chief and contacting a quartermaster directly is almost unheard of.

 

“Sir.” He replied simply.

 

“I need all our people involved alive, quartermaster.” Mycroft said.

  
“My priority is the target, sir.” Q replied.

That’s true. Even though the only person could end up dead this day would be his own boyfriend.

But their lives belong to the country. Not themselves. Not since the day they chose this course. If the worst happened he would mourn and cry in Mycroft arms when everything’s over.

Of course he would try his very best never to let that happen.

 

“I repeat. Every one of our people alive.” Mycroft said.

 

Q couldn’t make out his tone. What does Mycroft mean? He frowned even further.

If they could afford the target to get away why send 007 out in the first place?

 

“Our agent on the train had observed the target is highly likely to be suicidal if he loses the hard drive on his neck. The most dangerous man is one with nothing to lose, Q.”

 

“Shit.” Q said.

What’s Sherlock fucking doing on that train? Mycroft does not have a CCTV on that train. Or Q would have access to it, too. Sherlock must have sneaked onto it behind Mycroft’s back.

Okay. So, enemy’s side, nothing to lose, would gladly go down with everyone around him. Their side, a brother, a boyfriend/possible future brother-in-law. Brilliant.

 

“Sir, if you don’t mind I will link you onto the private line of double-oh seven and I. For better communication.” He said. Q had a vague idea how many security protocols he might be breaking right now. But when one of those involved never gave a damn and another was responsible for writing said protocols… he’s quite invincible.

 

“Certainly not.” Mycroft said.

 

“Um, I do a bit, actually.”

James Bond, who until that point could only hear Q’s side of the conversation, said in his ears with his deep seductive voice.

 

Q ignored him and quickly brought Mycroft onto the line.

“Sir if it’s okay by your side we’re definitely private on this line.” Q said. He had already made sure his own office was private when James decided it was high time for unprofessional behavior when he was racing in his car to his current place earlier.

 

“Good.” Mycroft said.

 

“Oh.” Said James. Q knew he had recognized Mycroft’s voice.

“Family business, then.”

Q could almost see James shrug when he said that.

 

“This is serious business, James.” Q said. “The target is suicidal. Sherlock is on the train with him.”

 

“Are you sure this line is safe>” Mycroft said, being Mycroft.

 

“That’s why you have lines on your forehead, big brother.” Q said. “I’d be more worried about your air-con panel on your left-hand wall.”

 

“Quentin you can’t just hack into my air-con panel!” Mycroft hissed.

 

“It’s got a computer chip, Mikey. All the same to me.” Q replied pleasantly. “We’ve got another five minutes.” He added.

 

“I was very tempted to throw you out of the window that time you threw up all over me when you were five months old.” Mycroft said.

 

“Mum will kill you.” Q replied.

 

“Compartment?” James interrupted, to remind the Holmes brothers of his existence.

 

“Five.” Mycroft said.

 

“Got it.” James said. In his ears Q’s typing speed had turned up another gear.

 

“Can you get Sherlock open a window or carriage door so James can get on more easily?” Q asked, his eyes fixed on the red dot indicating the train.

 

“Too obvious if suddenly a gust of wind in a concealed air-con train don’t you think?” A new voice cut in.

 

“Sherlock!” Q shouldn’t be surprised, really. “Damn it can you not comment on my work when I’m doing it. You’re distracting me. And how did you get on the line?”

 

“If there’s one thing I’m confident of it’s my dear little brother can perform under pressure.” Sherlock said.

 

Q’s glad nobody was around to witness his ears burning.

 

“And I was on Mycroft’s line. And you got Mycroft on your line.”

 

“Alright what do you suggest?” Though James liked to tease him sometimes he was always confident and comfortable giving him orders on first instinct.

But when you got your two elder brothers looking over your shoulder… Q was fighting himself to not hesitate and worry about making mistakes.

Q cursed the misery that was his life. Reputation in front of his brothers be damned. It’s not about being teased at every Christmas dinner from this year on. If he doesn’t fly two of the most important people in his life could be dead. And they were literally trusting their life with him.

 

“I can lock the carriage door between compartment five and six. Your boyfriend can get in at compartment seven, then walk to five.” Sherlock said.

 

Q noticed Mycroft had become silent since Sherlock got on the line. Sit back and watch things unfold. That’s his style.

 

So they all worked as Sherlock said. Ten minutes later James Bond was in compartment five.  Him and Sherlock stood in a corner some distance away from their target. It made things a lot less suspicious now they wouldn’t be seen talking to thin air. Though lots of people talk to their earphone nowadays. Making things a lot easier for spies.

 

Before James or Q could say anything, Sherlock informed them of everything.

“That man with a brown overcoat. He’s the one. It’s warm in the carriage but he’s still got his coat buttoned up. There’s a bump underneath. The material outline shows when he bends. The way he puts his hands. He tries hard not to touch his left chest. Notice the way he reaches for the water bottle. His hand goes some extra distance to keep away from his coat. Explosive in there. String around his neck. He moves his neck a little every time after he does something. Subconsciously making sure it’s still there. Must be the thing you are looking for.”

 

“We are looking for.” Q corrected him.

 

“You. It’s got nothing to do with me.” Sherlock said. “I’m just interested in cases that doesn’t involve a dead body at the moment.”

 

“I might make sure we have one by the end of this.” Came Mycroft’s voice, apparently through clenched teeth.

 

“I’d prevent dead bodies happening for you, Quentin.” Sherlock sighed indulgently.

James noted with amusement what a good actor Sherlock was. He could convey an emotion previously. Not too much or too little. Just precise.

 

“Quentin, what’s your next move? From the way your boyfriend is smirking right now I don’t think he’ll last long.” Sherlock said whilst looking outside the window.

 

“Sherlock!” Now it’s Q’s turn to hiss down the line.

 

“Don’t blush brother. Too much blood up your head is not good for quick-thinking.” Sherlock said smoothly.

 

James was looking straight ahead down the corridor. He could feel Sherlock’s eyes on him through the reflection in the window. He kept his posture and forced his face straight. He’s good at never giving anything away.

 

“Blink.” Sherlock said.

 

“What?” James was confused. It’s hard to keep up with Sherlock.

 

“You are not blinking. That’s not natural for a train passenger.” Sherlock said.

 

James felt a bit annoyed. He remembered what Q had told him before they went to Mycroft’s for the first time. How most people would feel murderous in the presence of Sherlock. He now fully appreciated that.

 

“Right. There’s an easy solution.” Q cut through the interaction. “Mycroft’s new gun can aim multiple targets at the same time. James shoot both his wrists at the same time. Sherlock pick the chain he has around his neck.”

 

“The gun is still not fully tested.” Mycroft said.

 

“Wouldn’t take it with me if we’re not sure about it.” James said. He saw the side of Sherlock’s mouth slowly quirk up into a smirk.

“Ready?” he asked the man with dark curls not unlike his brother. He couldn’t afford to it less than perfect. That’s the style of the Holmes brothers. The slightest slip, you would never hear the end of it. _That’s why Q was such a perfectionist_ was the last thought he cleared out of his mind.

 

Sherlock nodded at him, stood up and edged closer to their target.

 

“You say when, Sherly.” Q said.

 

Bond glanced outside the train window. They were running past a field. Once Sherlock’s got the drive they could easily jump out amid the chaos. That’s one thing James never liked. People panicking when there’s gun fire. Just calm the fuck down and don’t block my way was his inner monologue every time he had to make his way out.

 

James sat down in a set two rows in front of their target and, using his coat as disguise, pulled the gun out, while careful to make sure it was not reflected in the window.

 

“When I reach the back of his seat.” Sherlock’s mumble came in the earpiece.

 

“Go on then.” James said. His expression casual. His heart only beating a little bit faster to aid his needed focus.

Silently he calculated the number of footsteps Sherlock would need to reach his position and counted in his mind as he watched Sherlock move from the corner of his eye-

_One, two three, ready, fire._

He flung himself out from behind the seat, took aim and shot. The gun didn’t make any noise. Had it not been the force pushing back on his palm he’d think the gun didn’t work at all.

James looked up in time to see Sherlock pretend to stumble with the train’s swing and when he straightened up again, the piece of chain on the target’s neck was gone.

 

“To your left. The nearest compartment joint. Run run run.” Q shouted in there earpiece.

 

007 and Sherlock Holmes were already running. A few long strides took them to the door and with the handle of the gun James smashed it open.

 

“Careful with that!” Q must had recognized the noise of two metal objects collide. “Don’t even think about bringing the pieces back in a nice box.”

 

Behind them the man they just shot and robbed let out an angry cry and was on his feet, running after them. But it was too late. James and Sherlock scrambled outside the train, and jumped off.

By the time the man’s ready to jump after them James was already on his feet again. He pulled out a pistol and without even trying shot the man on the forehead.

 

“Nice one.” Sherlock was on his feet too. He watched the dead body tumbled backwards onto the train, already a long way away. “Mycroft will take care of the body. Why did you take time to take out your pistol though?” He tore his eyes away from the train and looked at James.

“Oh.” He said simply.

 

Suddenly everything was too quiet. The noise of the train had already died away. The echo of the gunshot always leaves behind a void. And nobody in his earpiece said anything.

 

James glanced at Sherlock and looked down at the gun in his hand. It’s body was twisted and there was some long cracks along its handle.

He’s sure it’s still perfectly useable. But didn’t want to take any chances. That’s all. Well…

 

“Mycroft. I just want to let you know I love your brother Quentin very much.” James said to the sky and grass and trees.

 

“Tell me you didn’t” Q started.

 

“I still have it Q. It’s just a bit-“ James said quickly, bracing himself for the unavoidable telling-off.

 

But another silky voice cut through – “I’ll issue you a new gun. Don’t worry.” Mycroft said, and he laughed his not-sure-if-fake-or-genuine laugh.

 

“Mycroft you should be on my side!” Q screamed down the line.

 

“I am.” Said Mycroft. And in the corner of his eye James could see Sherlock barely suppressing a smile.

 

“I’m off to write paperwork. Contact me if you need me for something else.” Q said. James wished he could see Q’s face now. The slightly pouty but indignant face that he would love to see more of.

 

The line clicked and James and Sherlock are alone. Without a word, but still with a smile he couldn’t contain on his face, Sherlock started to walk. James followed.

 

“Oh and James.” Sherlock said without turning once James was level with him. “No offence but I could have pickpocketed that idiot by myself.”

 

“I don’t doubt it.” Said James. The best way to befriend Sherlock is by compliment and agreement, he had worked out.

He waited for Sherlock to continue talking. But instead Sherlock turned to look at him, one eyebrow slightly raised, apparently asking for a response to something he should have understood by now.

 

“What about tomorrow?” James asked, finally, hoping the pause was not too long. He sighed inwardly. Any attempt not to get humiliated in front of a Holmes was simply a waste of time. To his slight surprise, Sherlock let it pass and simply gave him an encouraging smile.

 

“It’s Quentin’s birthday, James. You better not forget that.”

 

“Oh.” Said James. It suddenly occurred to him he never asked when Q’s birthday was.

 

“And Mycroft wanted to make sure you get your after-mission-days-off for his birthday.” Sherlock winked at James and walked on. “That’s our lift.” He said merrily, as in the sky choppers could be heard heading towards their direction.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwu I know this series is rated gen but birthday sex y/y?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know this series is rated G but this chapter is just birthday sex that evolves into a bit of dom!bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all don't know the pain of typing from your notebook smut yourself wrote six years ago >///<

Q slowly comes to conscious. For a moment he couldn’t remember what day it is or where he is. His first instinct is he should get up and go to work.

Upon moving his arm he found it is draped over something warm and solid. After a few more confusing seconds it comes to him this is his day off. And he has a double-oh agent snoring beside him.

“It will take some time for my brain to get used to this.” He thinks lazily. He turns around and starts falling asleep again, enjoying the best thing in the world – no rush to get up yet.

But just as he’s drifting off a pair of strong arms sneak around his waist, pulling him close tightly.

“Good morning birthday boy.” James Bond mumbled into his mop of curly hair. Q tries to wiggle away, but even a still mostly asleep 007 is too strong for him.

Q feels wide awake now. His brain is not programmed for a lie-in anyway. He traces his long fingers up James’ arm with the lightest touch.

The older man appeared to have drifted off again. At the touch he stirs, and with a swing of his arm locked Q even tighter.

 

“Aw.” Q protests softly. It’s actually a bit painful. But James has already gone back to snoring.

Q sighs.

The secret agent enjoys man-handling him like he’s a freaking teddy bear. He likes feeling dominant. And Q gets his fair share of giving orders on the field, anyway. In that sense they have a pretty balanced relationship.

With his arm pinned tightly to his side, Q nudges Bond with his elbow best he can.

“James.” He calls in his best authority voice. “James!”

James grunts in his sleep. Q knows he’s awake.

“I can’t breathe.” He drops the Q-voice and complained in his smallest-child-in-the-family voice.

One arm moves from his chest to his neck and the next second Q finds himself underneath James. The older man kisses him gently.

“Better?” James asks. His one hand is in Q’s hair, ruffling the soft curls and massaging the head that is capable of processing hundreds of different thoughts but is currently definitely having a break down.

 

Q licks his lips and breaks into a huge grin. “What was that for?” He sneaks a hand onto James’ cheek. But with a swift movement both his hands are pinned down by his head.

“The reason why both of us are still in bed and not in a hurry to go anyway else.” James says it like he’s giving a report on a problem he encountered during a weapon test.

“Except we are in a hurry.” Q says. “A tenner Mycroft’s been expecting cake since five in the morning.”

James chuckles. “That’s a good point And I do have to thank him, personally.” He spares a hand to stroke Q’s cheek. “But I don’t agree with the hurry part. Let’s take as long as we want, and let him wait.”

James’ lips are millimeters away from Q’s when he says the last few words.

Q lifts his head to meet them but James is quicker. He pulls away fast and Q’s head can only reach so far when his hands are immobile.

 

James gives him a smirk, with his free hand, start feeling Q’s ribcage under his fingers.

Q;s breathing is still even, albeit a little quicker than before.

James rests his palm on Q’s stomach, feeling it rise and fall, waiting for the first sign of a sudden inhale, the sign of Q losing the game of keeping poised they both like to play.

 

“I don’t know. He might be in such a bad mood by on in the afternoon we launch a missile to another country.” Q says. James notices how he is taking shallower breaths, breathing them out as long as possible.

“I wouldn’t terribly mind if that means there’s one less place I have to go to.” He purrs. Suddenly he dives down and attacks Q’s earlobe. Biting it softly between his teeth.

Q squirms beneath him.

“This is not the way to treat a birthday boy, double-oh-seven.” He manages. He’s almost panting.

“My original plan was to kidnap you, hid you in the basement of an abandoned hospital in Yorkshire, and make you beg for it.” James pecks Q on the lips again, before moving to his neck and begins biting and sucking.

This is one of his favorites. Q likes to say James must be a vampire in disguise.

Q moans. “This will never work, you know.” He says, turning his head to one side to give James more ground to play.

“Mycroft and...” he says between sharp intakes of breath. “And... ahh... Sherlock will hunt you down and pull your limbs off before youuu ... can leave London.”

James sooths the red spots on Q’s pale skin with his rough hand and licks a trail down his chest, drawing a series of incoherent sounds from the quartermaster before saying-

“Maybe I’d ask them for help?”

Q, after a distracting thought about how on earth was James’ voice still so calm and normal when he’s already a withering mess, gets this vivid image of Sherlock, Mycroft and James sitting in a warehouse somewhere on the outskirt of London, plotting his death. He shivers, rather violently, for all the wrong reasons.

“Wow, I didn’t even do anything.” James coos.

Q replies by thrusting his hips upwards. Wanting to go back to where he was

James chuckles again. “Now you regret ever letting me meet your brothers?” He says it for Q. “James, please...” Q says.

“Okay, I promise I won’t do something your brothers wouldn’t.” James says, all serious. Than he breaks into a smirk again. “Except this.” He grinds down on Q suddenly, and makes Q let out a small scream.

“Not that... Well, and that, too.” Q sputters out.

“Oh shit I’ve broken you.” James sounds awfully pleased with himself.

He reaches his arm under the pillow and started to prepare himself and Q.

 

“That doesn’t make much difference.” Q finally managed to say. In between those beautiful little moans of him.

“Well, obviously this doesn’t count.” James says. He’s not entirely sure he’s still following the conversation. But it doesn’t matter as he drapes Q’s knees over his shoulders and thrusts deep into him.

“Shit. Be gentle double-oh seven.” Q breaths. He winces as he gets used to the sensation f James inside him.

James kisses him everywhere he can reach. Before saying “We should put a camera inside Baker Street and see what Sherlock and his flatmate is up to. I’m rather curious.” He chuckles, hands roaming Q’s body, keeping his touch deliberately light.

He enjoys watching Q’s muscle twitch involuntarily when he does that. He watches as Q starts to show signs of impatience before slipping his cock out and pushes back in again, slowly.

“Don’t ... don’t put that image in my head.” Q says between gasps. “I’m keeping an eye on Mycroft though. If he and that detective inspector doesn’t stop being so polite to each other I’m going to die of sexual frustration. Ahh-“  
He yelps in surprise as James suddenly pulls out, flips him over and smacks him, hard, on the ass. Q turns his head a little to try not suffocate on his pillow. Which is difficult for now James has one hand in his hair, forcing his face further into the pillow while the agent growls into his ear-

“You are thinking of sexual frustration from watching your brother when I’m being all nice and making love to you eh?”

Q shivers. He’d say something back but he’s practically gagged by his pillow.

James spanks Q again before bringing his entire bodyweight onto the tiny frame of his Quartermaster. “Careful. Or I will do something to go that your brother will break into the house with armed troops, and I will have no choice but to hold you hostage.

 

Q murmurs something into the pillow. James pulls his head up by his hair. “Come again?” He snarls, his teeth almost scratching Q’s throat. James knows Q loves him being rough to him in bed. It balances out their relationship, what with James’ trained instinct to be (relative) obedient to all of Q’s commands at work.

“I have a strange feeling he will be on your side, tell me off, and find himself a comfortable sp- hmnn”

“That’s too much talking.” James Bond sinks Q’s face back onto the pillow. He bites down on Q’s neck, soothing it with his tongue afterwards.

Q gives out a muffled moan, which only earns himself another hard slap.

“You have lost the privilege to make any more sound during the rest of this. Except when you come. You scream my name. Do you understand?” James’ voice is deep in his throat.

Q shivers again, but doesn’t make any sound. Instead he just nods into the pillow.

“Good.” James says. He pulls Q’s legs apart until it might physically hurt him, and starts fucking him again.

 

Now it has to be said Q is usually a quiet boy. He’s not the type of commander that swears and shouts. He rarely raises his voice. He observes and watches and judges. Then he makes a single command, if you are on his good side, and sends you running all the way across the city willingly. Or he destroys you without another word.

So it always gives James an extra dose of satisfaction when he, the agent who’s often on the receiving end of Q’s silence, reduces him into a whimpering mess. It sends his adrenaline running when his Q, his quartermaster, the one that he (somewhat) obeys in all circumstances has his hands curled into fists, then stretching and scratching the bedsheet like a desperate drowning man, at the same time biting into the cotton, trying not to scream, because James forbade him to.

 

James quickens his pace, sliding in and out of Q until the only sound in the room is that of skin slapped together. With his other hand takes Q’s dick in his hand and urges Q on with him. He feels energy accumulating in his abdomen. He leans down and whispers, or works his vocal cords into as close to a whisper as he can in his current state –

“Come on Q. Come for me. I’m the one in charge for this one.”

Q’s teeth let go of the pillow. For a moment James thinks he’s going to say something, but only rasping sounds comes from his throat. Then he comes. Screaming James’ name as he does so. Shooting all he’s worth. James follows afterwards.

For a long time there’s only content silence in the room, with their heavy breathing and the scent of sex in the air.

 

“What was that you were saying?” James says when his breathing is back to normal. He slides off Q, allowing him to get more comfortable.

“What?” Q turns to look at him with out of focus confused eyes.

“You were saying something before your mind blew.” James says, tangling a hand into Q’s hair, pulling those curls lazily. “I can’t believe my life is in your hands.” He teased. “You can’t even remember things three minutes ago.”

“Oh that, wait I remember that.” Q says immediately.

James waits. Nothing more follows. “You are bullshitting, Q.” He feels obliged to point out, and starts laughing so hard Q makes a hopeless attempt to push him out of bed.

“And that’s why ear piece sex is strictly banned on field.” He pretends to be annoyed. Finally catching up.


End file.
